Four of a Kind
by Rainne
Summary: You are cordially invited to the wedding of Bertram Wilberforce Wooster...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If you recognize anyone or anything, just go ahead and assume I don't own it.

A/N: I've been holding on to this for a while now, polishing it up and whatnot. I'd hoped to have it finished before posting, but what can I say? I love to share (and get reviews ). Not sure when I'll finish it- that dang Bertie voice is a tad ephemeral you know, comes and goes of its own accord. Anyway, enjoy, review, and have a nice day! Oh, also, if anyone happens to recognize my two OFCs, you win internets and cookies.

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Marital bliss. Not a phrase expected to apply to this Wooster, for various and sundry reasons. And yet, here I am, as blissful as one can be without harming oneself, and at the same time a married man... But perhaps I've gone and put the cart before the whatsit again. Or is it the other way around? Here, let me start at the beginning, about five months prior to my current euphoric state.

On that friendly April morning, I was off to visit the dreaded Aunt Agatha for the weekend. Normally I would have bent the old noodle until it produced a decent excuse to avoid such a despicable event, but nothing would dissuade the aged a. from introducing me to the latest feminine horror she'd dredged up. And so I was off, like a man led to the gallows, to the abode of Aunt Agatha. The circs would have been thoroughly unbearable if not for the fact that the ferret-faced blister Edwin was serving time at some pricey boarding school, the man of the house had biffed off on earl-some duties, and the aunt-in-training was visiting with friends. Now add to that the soothing presence of my devoted valet, Jeeves, and I'd say said circs were about as close to optimal as possible. The ever-helpful man in question was the one and only I put my faith in to fish me out of this marriage-flavored soup in which I once again found myself soundly dunked. He was also, I'll have my readers know, the one and only I would consider staying a while in marriage-flavored soup with. Yes, that's right, after years of faithful service and companionship, Jeeves had become much dearer to me than any employee ever could, than any _person_ had ever become. This extra dimension added to our relationship made it all the more- what's the word? Starts with an "imp." Jeeves would know- that I leave _chez_ Bumpleigh without a ring on my finger. And so Jeeves and I headed once more into the breach, to fend off the hopeful bride with all our might.

"What do you reckon, Jeeves?" I queried bitterly somewhere along our journey. This was only the most recent intrusion on the life of Bertram, and it was beginning to wear on the Wooster soul, to the detriment of my usual cherub-like demeanor. "What'll it be this time? Horse-faced heiress? Gooey-eyed politician's daughter? That is to say the daughter's gooey-eyed, not the politician. Not much for goo, the eyes of politicians."

"I believe we shall see." Ages of prodding had not yet won me the name Bertie dropping from Jeeves' lips, but I had convinced him to hold off on the "sir" when in private. To be honest, I was more than happy to continue convincing him of the level of informality between us until kingdom come, but that's neither h. nor t.

"You might want to get in a bit of early fishing when we arrive, old chum, and fill up on all the aquatic denizens you catch. I have a rummy feeling it'll take more than the usual neat and cunning scheme to avoid the marital lasso this time. I could barely hold on to my eggs and b. this morning with this awful feeling of- what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Foreboding, perhaps?"

"Ah, that's the ticket. Yes, foreboding- it's been tying my insides in knots, I'll have you know."

Jeeves' lips pursed ever so slightly as his gaze fell on me, which I took to mean his thoughts were consumed with worry for my mental and physical state. "Prior experience, as well as your continued bachelor state, indicates that you have been one hundred percent successful in avoiding the acquisition of a spouse. Therefore, perhaps your feelings of impending doom need not be so extreme."

Once I'd decoded Jeeves' speech (which can be dashed difficult at times. The man has a mind that could cut diamonds, and it shows) I gave him a warm smile, which he returned, unless that quirk of his mouth was just a trick of the light.

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"Aunt Agatha!" I cheerily cried, exercising my acting skills to the breaking point, "How does my dear ancestor for this many a day?"

"Inching my way to death's doorstep and still with an unmarried wastrel of a nephew to tend to. But that shall all change soon enough, Bertie. Come inside."

In the parlor sat a young lady staring at her lap, or maybe at the hands clutched in her lap. Anyway, her gaze jerked up to Aunt Agatha and me when we entered, and I got a full view of a face only middling in its equine imitation. In fact, the girl seemed to retain only the qualities of horses that have made them so popular over the centuries. Her face was endowed with high cheekbones and full lips, a long, delicate nose and a pair of the biggest blue-grey eyes I'd ever come across, and not to be confused with those of the dribbly Bassett variety. Instead of noxiously starry-eyed soppiness, a kind of faint sadness held within them caught my attention. I had little time to analyze it before the girl rose and sailed towards us.

Aunt Agatha took quick control of the proceedings, "Bertram, this is Valerie Finch-Hammond. Miss Finch-Hammond, this is my nephew, Bertram Wooster."

"I'm very happy to meet you, Mr Wooster," Miss Finch-Hammond said in a soft and thoroughly pleasant-sounding voice, "Your aunt has told me a great deal about you."

"Oh, well, please, wait until you get to know me before you run off screaming for the hills, what." The strangest sort of panic filled me at this news, as if I was worried Aunt Agatha had already turned the young lady against me by listing my poorer attributes, which didn't make any sense when I thought on it later. Miss Finch-Hammond smiled, and I noted the sadness didn't go away even then.

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In the course of the afternoon, I gathered intelligence on my would-be fiancée. Enchanting as her presence may have been at the beginning, no pair of blue-grey eyes would sway me from my duty to Jeeves to remain one of Nature's bachelors. It turned out my first guess was right; Miss Finch-Hammond was heiress to a not at all insubstantial fortune, which she had inherited from her deceased parents. A spark of fellow-feeling zapped me there; an orphan cast upon the world could not be brushed off like dust on one's jacket. I ached to confer with Jeeves on the matter, but dinner was to be served, so I settled down to bolster myself with a good meal. I should mention that throughout the course of our dialogue, Miss Finch-Hammond exhibited a bally odd aura of anxiety. Dinner was littered with the significant looks she unceasingly shot my way.

After the meal was downed, our whole group adjourned again to the sitting room, but as Miss Finch-Hammond passed by me, I caught her near-silent whisper, "Ask me for a walk, Mr Wooster." Thoroughly mystified, I waited until the time was right before casually asking Miss Finch-Hammond if a stroll around the garden pleased her. She agreed with all the shyness expected of a girl in her posish. I suppressed a feeling of nausea at Aunt Agatha's look of smug glee when she gave our walk her blessing, and I guided Miss Finch-Hammond from the room and out to the moonlit grounds.

"Lovely night, what?" I said, taking a stab at idle chitchat until she got around to the reasoning behind her hushed request.

"Yes, it's usually so rainy this time of year." Not yet, apparently.

"The gardens are coming along well. Taking full advantage of those April showers, I suppose."

"I do apologize for my impropriety, Mr Wooster, but you see I had to speak with you alone." Ah, there it was.

"It's quite all right. And do call me Bertie. I believe clandestine meetings under the moonlight put us on a first-name basis, don't you?"

This earned me another brief smile, "I suppose they do. You may call me Valerie."

"All right, then, Valerie. To what do I owe this surreptitious stroll?"

She took a few breaths and blinks, obviously working herself up for what she had to say, "Well, I suppose I should begin by telling you that I requested that your aunt introduce us."

"Really?" I said with elevated eyebrows, "So, Bertram Wooster is not a new acquisition to your files."

"Yes. In fact, we've come very close to meeting on several occasions. We have mutual friends."

"And what, pray tell, caught your interest about my person?" I was at the moment feeling deeply flattered, that I had apparently attracted this fetching young lass without even trying.

She did her breathing and blinking trick again, which told me we were at another tough point in the conversation. I patiently waited. "Your behavior around your valet caught my interest," she said quickly, as if to prevent herself from stopping halfway through.

A chill settled into my recently fed stomach. Ideas that the girl was enamored of my charms fell away to much darker speculations. "My valet..."

"Yes," Valerie moved to stand before me, "Look, for you to understand what I'm saying, you must know some things about me."

I gazed at her earnest face warily, "Very well."

"Ever since I was small, my nursemaid's daughter has been my best friend and closest companion. Ruth has been there for me always, even more so after my parents' deaths. In point of fact, around that time... Ruth and I became lovers." Her eyes met my significantly-widened ones steadily, though not without a modicum of fear. She didn't let the silence make itself at home, "I believe, after observing you and your valet for some time, that you and he share a similar relationship to Ruth and me. Am I incorrect? Please tell me if I am, and I will straight away leave you alone and not speak of it again, to anyone, I swear it. But if I'm right... then I believe I have a solution to a certain problem we also share."

"What problem would that be?" I managed after some time, my voice sounding painfully weak.

"To put it bluntly, marriage. I can't be certain about your situation, but I know that if people don't stop hounding me about netting myself a husband I shall do as you so aptly put it earlier and run screaming for the hills!"

I let out a small laugh, "Yes, I'll admit to that. My aunts' attempts to force me into the marital yoke are getting more and more insufferable. Especially since..."

"Especially since..." Valerie prompted, practically on tiptoe with hope.

"Especially since my valet and I... became as well acquainted as we are now." The biggest smile yet spread across Valerie's map, this time it was one hundred percent sorrow-free.

"So, Bertie," she said, "Would you like to hear my solution to our twin difficulties?"

"Certainly, old bean."

"It's quite simple really. You and I get married. We purchase a large house out in the country and live there with our respective significant others. No one need know about our unique living arrangements, and we will be free of meddling relatives. Think of it, Bertie, true freedom, or the closest thing persons like us can achieve. Would it not be splendid?"

I'm not sure I can suitably describe how Valerie's solution made me feel. Jeeves probably could, but not I. I made a study of the lawn, with a furrowed brow and hands on my hips. Pull up stakes in the metrop. and move out to the countryside with this girl I hardly knew and her... lady's personal lady? Ridiculous! Live in peace with Jeeves, free of judgment and troublesome engagements? Marvelous. "I, that is to say, ah, I have to speak with my valet."

"Of course, Bertie, of course. Take as much time as you like. If the two of you feel it right to proceed, please contact me. Until then, I suggest we return to the house, or your aunt may think we're doing something untoward."

"If we're going to convince people we're blissful newlyweds-to-be, that may not be the worst idea." Valerie chuckled as we headed back inside.

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Later on, I witnessed a very rare sight indeed: a completely speechless Jeeves. Not a sound broke his frozen mask of surprise when I filled him in on Valerie's scheme. He just stood there with my pajamas folded over his arm, staring at me.

"Well, Jeeves," I said, starting to get worried over the lack of response, "That seems to be the long and s. of it. What do you think? I told her I wouldn't make decision one without your input. Or something like that."

A few more moments wandered by until Jeeves finally spoke, "I must say, I am impressed by Miss Finch-Hammond's powers of observation. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I feel I have always been the soul of discretion where our private relationship is concerned. One must wonder how she deduced the truth."

"Well, the way I figure it, the girl has the inside track, so to speak. She can read the signs others can't because she's in a relationship rather like ours herself." Jeeves nodded his agreement with raised eyebrows. "Overall she seems a dashed pleasant young miss, dear fellow. To tell the honest truth, I could see this whole thing working out smashingly for everyone involved."

"You're optimism has always been among your most sterling features," Jeeves replied quietly as a warm smile crept onto his chiseled features, for sure this time.

"I suppose we could sleep on it," I suggested with the slightest waggle of my eyebrows.

Jeeves' smile turned sad, "I'm afraid there is a room in the servants' quarters awaiting my presence. I will be missed if I fail to make an appearance."

After ascertaining that I required nothing else from him that evening (no, only his presence, the one thing I couldn't have), he made to shimmer from the room. Struck with a sudden thought, I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, "You know, this wouldn't happen in a house with Valerie and Ruth. Every night we could stay together- til death do us part, perhaps."

"Perhaps. Good night, sir." And he was gone.

I spent a goodish portion of the nighttime hours that followed embroiled in my own thoughts about Valerie's proposal. The more I turned the scheme over in my head, the more I found I liked it. Even before the happenings recorded here, a thought had been niggling the hindquarters of my brain more and more, that thought being: Bertram is not the strapping young _boulevardier_ he once was. I mean to say, the years seemed to be gaining weight, and I was feeling it. At one time I had thought I could be the lighthearted bachelor forever, endlessly flitting from the Drones Club to the homes of friends or relatives to whatever vacation spot caught my eye. But I've found this an untenable position, as Jeeves might say. Quite honestly, where once an ideal evening might have consisted of getting pickled up to my eyebrows and swinging a shoe for hours on end at a club now there was a night in the flat with Jeeves. Simple, quiet, if you get my meaning. And more and more Valerie's scheme seemed like a surefire way to guarantee that every night was like that for the rest of my days. It was something to think about, that's for bally sure.

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As Saturday morning strolled along, I tuned the Wooster senses to Jeeves' frequency and detected a gossamer veil of fatigue cast over his familiar movements; an attribute which bespoke of a night no doubt spent bracing his considerable mental strength against the decision I'd placed at his feet. I've not yet figured out what ultimately brought Jeeves around to the scheme, I only know that before we parted ways that day he softly suggested I keep close company with Valerie, preferably within viewing distance of Aunt Agatha. Filled with a hopeful notion more delicious and delicate than one of Anatole's _soufflés_, I fairly hopped to comply with his wishes. It amused me to find Valerie in roughly the same spot in the garden where we had had our most monumental of chats, as if she had waited all night for me to return with my answer.

"Good morning, Bertie," she said, although it sounded an awful lot like, "So what will it be?"

"Morning, Valerie, and a fine morning it is."

"Yes, another bright and sunny one. You know, as much as I enjoy this weather, I do hope we aren't in store for a drought. There's been so little rain."

"Let's not be pessimistic, Valerie," I chided her gently, "I'm sure the heavens shall overturn their celestial buckets in good time. For now, how about another walk, this time in the sunshine in exchange for moonlight?"

She took my arm with a warm smile that was perfectly pleasant but so very different from Jeeves' I was surprised it reminded me of his at all. Thinking on my dearest valet, I proceeded to fill Valerie in on his primary reaction, "I'm not sure Jeeves is entirely on board yet, but he told me to make a barnacle of myself to your metaphorical hull, so to speak, so I think he's not totally opposed."

"That's good to hear, Bertie. I hope to make a good impression on him... Goodness, I feel as if I'm trying to ingratiate myself on a future father-in-law, instead of a... Hm, come to think of it, I have no idea what to call him in this situation."

"Good point. I admit I find myself in the dark as well. Your fiancé's husband is the best I can conjure, which sounds strange on multitudes of levels. But in any case, he said he admires your observational skills, having so cunningly ferreted out the truth of the matter between him and me."

Valerie blushed and smiled, "Well, I'm very flattered. Tell me, are all those stories true? The ones I've heard where you've gotten yourself into some great difficulty and your valet swoops in and delivers you from harm like a knight in shining armor?"

I coughed a little and peered out over the landscape, "Well, yes, though not in so many words. Jeeves has been consistently invaluable in the tricky situations I seem to attract so powerfully."

Valerie laughed, "Well, it's no wonder you became enamored of him, then. You wouldn't be the first to fall for his or her rescuer. And as many times as he has filled that role- no, no surprise at all." Her mirth continued, unhindered by my less than jovial reaction to her assessment.

"And precisely how do you know it was I who went dippy for him?" I asked, "For your info, it could just as easily have been him pining away for the young master whilst I toddled along, thoroughly oblivious to his romantic yearnings."

"How did it happen, then?" she shot right back. The challenge in her eyes went phut almost immediately however, as she stammered, "Oh, I do apologize, Bertie. You don't have to tell me that. Terribly rude and silly of me to ask, I don't even know what I was thinking of. It's positively none of my business at all."

"Well now, simmer down, dear old thing. Actually, I'm of the opinion that, if we're to take the plunge, how your fiancé came to have a husband is very much your business. In fact, I think I might like to relate the tale. I've never been able to tell anyone before, for obvious reasons. You know, it's a bally rotten situation when you've found the love of your life, but risk a two year stretch or an extended visit to the house with the padded rooms if you mention it to anyone."

"Yes, I do know."

"All right then, here's the plan: I'll tell you my story, and you'll tell me yours, what? Come now, it'll be a gas."

Valerie and I journeyed out to a secluded spot in the woods far from prying ears. Taking a seat on the soft grass, I reclined the Wooster frame against a tree trunk and paused to gather my thoughts. "I suppose our ball started rolling when it became clear that Jeeves was in it for the long haul- that is to say, he would remain in the employ of one Bertram Wooster as long as he would have him. This information came to light after a rough patch in which I was nearly married twice and threatened with physical harm as many times and almost put in irons as well. But that's a story for another time. Now, we'll focus on the fallout.

"It was some months afterward that the formal declarations of tender affection were made. By that time we were both so bally sick of the tension growing between us I think it was either come clean to each other or commit suicide. After that it's all been daises- or is it roses?- aside from the fact that we can't tell anyone and have to dodge the occasional fiancée tossed at me by my mostly well-meaning aunts, present company excepted."

Valerie gave me a sly smile, "Somehow I doubt it was as simple as that, but I suppose there's time to get the details. Perhaps Jeeves would enlighten me."

"Perhaps he would. The man has a tendency for the soppy every so often, if you catch him in the right mood there's no telling how much detail you may get, probably more than you ever wanted. But, for now, how's about you enlighten me as to how my fiancée acquired a wife?"

Valerie's smile turned shy and her gaze darted about the foliage, "Well, there's not much to tell that I didn't last night. Ruth and I grew up together. While my parents attended their social affairs and such, I would be left in the care of my nursemaid, who would in turn have her daughter Ruth keep me company. She's the gentlest soul I know, Bertie. I can't imagine my life without her."

"Mm, nor I without Jeeves," I murmured. I imagine we both wore the soppiest expressions on the face of the globe at that moment, but no matter.

"Ruth's mother passed on a few years before my own parents. During that time Ruth and I grew closer. After my parents' deaths, it only seemed natural that we should cleave to each other and never let go. The whole world seemed against us at that moment, our only friends in it being each other. It's been that way ever since."

The sadness I'd spotted upon first meeting the dear girl had returned, and brought along reinforcements. I reached out a tentative hand and placed it on her shoulder, "I'm your friend, Valerie. You do know that, right?"

She heaved a sigh that sounded relieved and turned her eyes on me, "I know, Bertie. It's why I wanted to meet you."

"Right. And I'm sure Jeeves will be simply crackers about you, and I for Ruth, and we'll be one happy family very soon, what?"

Valerie nodded, her smile as wide as a- what's that American phrase?- a country mile. Yes, that's it, jolly good.

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Arm in arm and led by our stomachs, we exited the wood and legged it back to the main house for lunch. En route, I spotted Jeeves crossing the verge in our direction, his impressive black-clad form standing out on the vibrant lawn like a ship on calm seas. Such an engaging sight as this caused me to not quite register the man when he was standing only a few feet away. I reckon I stood there gawping like a landed salmon until Jeeves did his sheep-on-a-hillside cough and I remembered where I was, "Ah, Jeeves! What wonderful timing you've got. Now, you must meet the charming Miss Valerie Finch-Hammond."

Valerie did an interesting little bob in greeting, her remarkable ocular equipment fixed on my valet, "It is marvelous to meet you, sir."

Jeeves got a gentle grip on her hand and bestowed upon her a benevolent smile, "Rest assured the marvel is mine entirely, Miss Finch-Hammond. I was just coming to inform you both that lunch will be served in a few moments."

"Spiffing, Jeeves!" said I, "Valerie and I were just heading up to the house to inquire after some midday refreshments. Care to join us, old chap? I do believe we three have some significant matters to discuss. We four, if Valerie can rustle up this Miss Ruth we were recently discussing. What do you say, Val?"

"I think it shouldn't be too difficult, at this point in a visit to a new place Ruth has usually located the library and set up camp until her duties call her away."

"The library, you say?" Jeeves inquired, "I believe I may have spotted Miss Ruth on my way here. She is a blonde young lady, yes? Immersed in a Brontë novel?"

"Yes, that should be her," Valerie affirmed with a fond smile. By this time we had reached the house, having resumed our house-ward journey just after the introductions. "I shall fetch her then," Valerie said, "And we can settle down to lunch." She then flitted off inside, leaving Jeeves and myself to scout out a likely luncheon spot.

"So you've already gotten an eyeful of Ruth, have you, Jeeves?" I asked. He raised an eyebrow an eighth of an inch in confirmation. "Were you able to glean any of your handy psychology from the encounter?"

Jeeves paused to ponder his response, "Having obtained nothing more than a passing glimpse, sir, you understand that I dare not make a single comment on Miss Ruth's person with any kind of certainty. It is heartening to hear of her apparent passion for literature, the subject makes for excellent conversation between admirers of the written word. Overall, sir, I will say that I feel more anticipation than anxiety over the coming meeting." And I supposed that was the best I could hope for.

Not long after we had located a good, secluded space in which to take our repast, and Jeeves had sent a maid off with the message that lunch was to be served, the girls arrived. I whipped round from where Jeeves was attempting to teach me how to set a table for the some dozenth-some odd time to get a first glimpse of my fiancée's wife. Ruth was slightly taller than Valerie, willowy of frame, with a head of barely contained buttercup-yellow curls framing her round face. She entered arm-in-arm with Valerie, and had one not known of their more intimate relationship, one would never suspect there was one to know of, if you catch my meaning. Watching them I was struck by the double standard of two women walking arm-in-arm and not raising a whiff of suspicion, while gentlemen could do nothing of the sort without the whole of the police force falling upon them like rabid dogs.

"Bertie, Mr. Jeeves," Valerie was saying. I snapped back to attention, "This is Ruth Stone." As she gazed at the lady beside her, it was no great feat to notice the pure, unadulterated love that shined forth from Valerie's eyes. I wondered briefly if I ever looked that bedazzled while in Jeeves' presence, and immediately knew I did.

Jeeves approached first, taking Ruth's hand in his and introducing himself much the same way as he had done for Valerie. I came second, and tried to summon the most personable face I could manage without alarming her. "Fine thing to meet you, Ruth," I enthused, and tried to tone down the affability, as she seemed unable to look at anything above my shoes for more than a few seconds' time. Her only response to my greeting was a murmured, "Hello."

Introductions all around complete, we four sat down at the table to await the arrival of our meal. It was odd, but all conversation seemed to have been misplaced somewhere en route. Not a dashed soul at the table, myself included, broke the thickening layer of silence that surrounded us. Glances were exchanged, one person to another, but not a comment, thought, impression, or opinion made itself heard. It reminded me, I abruptly recalled, of meals I had shared with friends in which Jeeves had been invited to join. He would of course be seated at the young master's side, causing me to be on constant alert should my behavior give away any sign of our deep and abiding love. Being reminded of such uncomfortable situations in these circs was patently absurd, a fact I was quite aware of, but there it was. Bertram was lost in social darkness, and hadn't a solitary clue how to alight on a path.

I knew I wasn't alone in that same s. d. as soon as my eyes caught Valerie's. Had I known her for only the barest moment I would have recognized the desperation I saw there. Her gaze flickered significantly to Ruth, who was staring resolutely at her plate, then at me, then at Jeeves. Mystification remained my domain. She did it again. Suddenly, an idea blazed forth in my mind so brilliant I nearly cried out in relief. I spotted Jeeves' hand lying empty on the table and firmly filled the strong, dexterous specimen with my own. I felt him tense beside me, unthinkingly returning my grip. When I looked at him he was staring at our joined appendages as if he'd never seen such a thing before. I gave him a comforting squeeze and our eyes met. I registered surprise and, of course, love scrawled all over his map. I then looked to Valerie, who was beaming at us like a girl at Christmas. She wasted no time in scooping Ruth's hand up into hers. We sat there like that for some time, the silence turned to gold, as opposed to lead. I cannot speak for the rest of my tablemates, but I felt energized and elated to be doing this thing- simple physical contact with my dearest Jeeves- in the presence of others whom I knew I could trust and who trusted me. No coppers or men in white coats would swoop into the room and lock us all away. Earth itself would not spin off its orbit and crash into the sun in retaliation for our actions. Nothing would happen at all except I would feel the solid warmth of Jeeves' hand in mine. The moment was cut off by the swinging open of the door, causing our hands to fly apart immediately as a number of servants ferrying edibles to the table fluttered in.

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	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry for the delay, folks. This chapter was much less willing to come to heel than I'd expected it would be. Anyway, here it is at last, having weathered bouts of writer's block and sudden piercing insecurity, and even a continental change in personal scenery.

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I say, if I knew getting hitched was as easy as all this, I might actually have bothered after all! Taking the plunge seemed to be as straightforward a task as the euphemism implies- that is, assuming one is unaware of the plunge to be taken. I imagine it's rather difficult to pretend as if said cliffside is off in some other locale, rather than inches from one's feet if one knows it's there and would prefer not to become the literal blot on the landscape. In any case, once Aunt Agatha was apprised of the newly developed situation (at least, the outward appearance of the n.d.s.), my job was whittled down to- well, how did my sweet ancestor put it...? "I want you at least thirty miles away from these wedding plans at all times, Bertie. You are a bungler of the highest caliber. I'm certain a single glance from you would have everything in shambles. Go elsewhere; I don't care in the slightest where as long as you return when I tell you to." Given my orders, Jeeves and I toddled off.

"I say, Jeeves, if I knew getting hitched was as easy as all this-" I think I shall do a quick spot of editing here. Rest assured that I simply shared with Jeeves all that I shared above with you.

"Indeed, sir."

Now, normally the sometimes spare replies of my man to the pearls I scatter before him get right up my nose. However, when one is as well-versed as I in the rich and complex language of Jeeves, one realizes that said qualities are made present and all the more tangible by the very brevity of the responses themselves. To any outsider, "Indeed, sir" may come off as nothing more than the reply of a bored servant to a mindless master's ravings. The "Indeed, sir" of one Reginald Jeeves, on the other hand (if not on a hand in the next county), spoke volumes to me. It was an "Indeed, sir" full of pleasure and warmth directed at the young master. An "Indeed, sir" tinged with hope for the coming nuptials and beyond. An "Indeed, sir" that said, "I am rather pleased with the current course of events. If they continue in this fashion, I feel a comfortable life together is in our future. I suggest, now, that the elsewhere to which Mrs. Gregson wishes us to retire be one that provides a greater modicum of privacy, due to the fact that I rather would like to-" Another quick s. of e. here, if you don't mind. Some things that transpire between a valet and his master are truly no one's business but their own. If you're after that sort of thing, I'd try some of the lesser-known titles in Rosie Little's body of work. A rather brilliant imagination that girl has, if Mr. Little's accounts are to be believed.

In any case, we did retire to a location that provided a much greater modicum of privacy and, yes, I would not stoop to hide the fact that we went on to discover exactly what Jeeves would like to do. While lying in bed in our flat, both of the same consistency (if not temperament) of beached jellyfish, Jeeves asked me a question that nearly startled me out of said status, "Will you ask the young lady's kin for her hand in marriage?"

"Well, now, there's a question, Jeeves. I suppose I could, if you're in the know of a good medium. I'm almost certain I informed you of Valerie's bereaved state. The girl is an orphan, like me."

"Indeed, even more like you than I believe you suspect. Miss Finch-Hammond has enjoyed the guardianship of her aunt, the widow Mrs. Surridge-Hammond, since her parents' unfortunate passing."

"I say, Jeeves, I didn't know that and I've practically been in Val's pocket since making the announcement!"

"An acquaintance of mine from the Junior Ganymede informed me some time ago."

The Wooster brow did some furrowing here, "How long ago?"

"It is nothing with which you need concern yourself at this time." And then he did something that washed the question from my mind as effectively as a tidal wave does a starfish. He's rather good at that, you know.

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"I'd love to introduce you to Aunt Fran, Bertie!" I held the phone some distance away from my ear, the best form of protection against a punctured eardrum. "Of course I'd meant us to do just that at some time- we could hardly be married without you meeting Aunt Fran, unless we eloped or something like that, which I have no intention of doing. It would be quite a tricky endeavor, considering packing and transportation for four people-" Val's impromptu speech was interrupted by a soft murmuring in the background- "Oh yes, thank you, Ruth. I do apologize, Bertie, I suppose I have quite lost track of our conversation."

"Quite all right, dear thing, I have been known to do more than my share of wool-gathering myself in the midst of a chat. But in any case, perhaps your aunt might be amenable to a weekend visit, what?"

"Certainly, Bertie, I'll send a telegram along today."

"Topping, Val! Wire me the details and I'll wager everything will be ooja cum spiff. Cheerio, then." I turned to Jeeves, who stood nearby much like one of those marble chaps in certain well-appointed gardens, "That was good thinking there, old man, setting up a meet and greet with the future aunt-in-law..." A sudden cloud crested my mental horizon, "Oh dear, _aunt_-in-law. Jeeves, you know well of my bally rotten luck when it comes to aunts. Aunt Dahlia's a peach to be certain, but what of this new addition? The thought of a twin by another mother to Aunt Agatha is almost too much for the Wooster spirit to bear."

Quite unlike one of those marble chaps, Jeeves was at my side in a thrice, ready with a warm, heavy hand on my shoulder. I covered it with my own, smiling despite my recent con- hm, lost the word. What's the back end of a boat? Stern... Consternation- yes, that's the one. The message related through Jeeves hand was clear: Bertram Wooster need fear no auntly horrors as long as he had his man by his side.

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The fated weekend found Jeeves and self on the road once more, venturing out into the countryside to rendezvous with Val and Ruth at the train station a short distance from the Surridge-Hammond household. "I've got it again, Jeeves," I remarked.

"The foreboding, sir?"

"Of a kind, old nut. Offer the young master a spot of comfort, will you?"

Jeeves contemplated the request for a moment before saying, "Following your previous experience of foreboding, you made an alliance that appears to have provided a positive alteration to our lifestyle. Perhaps a similar event will occur once we have reached the home of Mrs. Surridge-Hammond."

I squinted at my man, "Do you mean to say that when dread's got me in its clutches, I should smile, Jeeves? Have the Wooster instincts got their pants on backwards?"

"I would not dare to say as much. Not without further evidence."

"Gosh."

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We were greeted at the station with a hug and kiss from the girls. I must say, the Wooster heart thrilled a bit at the sight of them, as if it had been much more than a week since last clapping eyes on Ruth and Val's shining faces. Indeed, the pair had become like sisters to me with great speed, but I suppose that's the ready bond created between co-conspirators. They knew of my love for Jeeves- therefore, they knew me better than anyone else walking about this earthly realm, aside from the living wonder himself, of course.

Returning to the course of our tale, I was quite pleased to have those dearest to me at my side now, as we approached the lair of the new aunt. The Wooster spirit rather quailed as the sprawling address came into view, but Val's encouraging beam served to bolster what flagged and soon enough we came not to the front door as expected but round the back instead. Emerging into the rear-facing grounds of the Surridge-Hammond manor exposed us to a cacophony of construction sights and sounds.

"I say, Val," I said, "I'm suddenly reminded of that bally odd book on Egyptian history Jeeves made me read. I do recall a bright spot when the author got round to discussing those whacking great pyramids."

"Oh, nothing as grand as that, Bertie," Val replied, "Aunt Fran is merely refurbishing the greenhouse. And installing an ornamental pond and patio next to it. And fixing the roof of the gazebo just over there." Val pointed towards the aggrieved edifice, upon which men wearing overalls that seemed the definition of utilitarian swarmed like ants, "Oh! And there she is. Aunt Fran, we're here!"

Beside a chap in slightly cleaner overalls stood a woman that might have posed for paintings of the mythic Valkyries in times past. She had half a head on the chap in the s.c.o.'s and her posture was held so upright she almost bent over backward. She turned at the sound of her name and, spotting us four, a half-smile appeared on her sculpted face. Abandoning her companion, a few broad strides caused the imperious Mrs. Surridge-Hammond to join us. After embracing Val and Ruth with a kind of affectionate condescension, the lady turned eagle-sharp eyes on Jeeves and me, "So, this is the poofter you'll wed to keep your nattering friends at bay?"

A kind of dizzying panic gripped me here, so much so that not but Jeeves' steadying hand kept me from reeling, "Um, that is, I mean to say, what?"

Val tutted at the daunting lady, "You promised you'd be nice, Aunt Fran. Is that how you treat all of your guests?" She paused, "Oh, wait, it is. Well, no matter, I won't have you speaking to Bertie that way. He is a wonderful man and we shall all be very happy together. Now, say hello to him like a proper relation of his fiancée."

Mrs. Surridge-Hammond fixed Val with a look much like that of a cat who's been scolded- that is, utterly unrepentant, but aware that there is some kind of connection she must honor between her and the scolder. Then those gimlet eyes of hers were on Bertram, "Hello, Mr. Wooster. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Meet every expectation my niece has of you, or you will regret it."

"Yes, ma'am." Well, really, what else could I bally well say?

"Right. Well then, shall we go inside? These lack-wits," she gestured towards the workmen, "seem to have things somewhat under control for the moment." Without waiting for an answer, she stalked off in the direction of the manor.

Val and Ruth followed, Jeeves and me trailing shakily behind (the latter more than the former, of course, although I reckon tension was palpable in his smooth step). Just before entering the manor, Val stopped and spun round, "Bertie, I forgot to mention, Aunt Fran knows about us. She doesn't mind, not really. No more than she minds most everything else. Isn't that a relief?"

Indeed it was.

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At the evening meal, I found myself quite at a loss as to how to behave. Had our secret stayed just that, I could've copied the behaviors and attitudes of some newlywed-to-be I'd seen in one of those rollicking comedies Jeeves flatly refuses to attend with me. As it was, I could only squirm like an adolescent worm on a stern educator's hook while Aunt Fran, as Val insisted I call her, casually dissected me with her eyes over the rim of a wine glass. Val's encouraging smiles held less and less bolstering power as the minutes crawled, more and more I longed for Jeeves' presence. I vowed silently that this night, the servants' quarters _would_ have a spare bed, just in case anyone needed it.

"So, Mr. Wooster," Aunt Fran said, and then paused just long enough for me to get out a "Ye-" before continuing, "Enjoying your food?"

"Yes, ma'am- um, Aunt Fran, very much. It's nearly as good as at my Aunt Dahlia's."

"She cooks?"

"No, no, at least, not that I know of. Her chef, Anatole, however, is absolutely tops. One could ruin a waistline with just the thought of his _nonettes de poulet Agnès Sorel_."

Her head and mouth cocked at an almost imperceptible, upward angle. I felt rather like a mouse that had just performed some mildly amusing maneuver to avoid the final toothy crunch. "Is that so? She must pay quite a pretty penny for his services."

"Oh yes, ma- Aunt Fran, she does. In fact, Anatole being a rather mercenary fellow, I'd say not much more than a sky-high salary keeps him in house. He's nearly been lured away by any number of Aunt Dahlia's chums. Some of those episodes are quite tales in themselves, if memory serves..." Warming to my subject, I proceeded to share some of the fruity adventures Jeeves and I have endured over the years. I must say that all the discomfort incurred by the rummier occasions seemed quite worth it when my recollections earned the lightest of chuckles from Aunt Fran. When finally my motoring mouth puttered to a stop, I dare say Bertram Wooster had earned himself the Francesca Surridge-Hammond Seal of Approval.

"You are an absolute clown," Aunt Fran opined, eyes now brimming with mirth, "I can see now why Valerie chose you. You couldn't harm an insect, could you?"

"Well now, I didn't tell you about the time I pushed a young boy into a pond."

Aunt Fran merely smirked at my display of the Wooster mean streak, "Went right in after him, didn't you?"

"Um, well, yes, but not because I wanted to. The plans got a bit bunged up, as I recall. But there have been times where I've spoken quite sharply to Jeeves. Usually when I catch him conspiring to do away with a snappy addition to my wardrobe. It's an awful thing, I know, disharmony in the household, but a man must have his independence. We Woosters have been strong-willed from the first."

Aunt Fran reached over and patted my hand, "I'm sure that is true, Mr. Wooster. The Hammond family is quite the same way. Now do go to bed and get a good night's rest, I'm certain you're tuckered out from all the excitement."

Retreating to the guest bedroom, I happily announced to Jeeves, who was laying out my pajamas, "She's a Dahlia-caliber egg, dear soul! Go tell it on the mountains."

"I'm quite pleased to hear as much."

"Indeed, for most of the meal I could barely keep myself from bolting from the table and into your arms, Jeeves, like a child fleeing an imagined ghoul in the dark. Luckily, though, a few trots down Memory Lane made us bosom companions. I quite forgot I was even supposed to feel uncomfortable."

"That is commendable. I've always believed your convivial disposition could win over the coldest of hearts, given the opportunity. As it did mine."

Well, I mean to say, what's a man to do in response to that? Magnets couldn't have drawn me to Jeeves with more power. "Almost forgot to say, old chap, I made a little promise to Bertram during supper."

"Did you?"

"I did. Something along the lines of not ruining the undoubtedly fine work of the maid who fixed up a bed for you in the servants quarters."

Jeeves' gaze broke from mine, instead studying the floor as the muscles in his chiseled jaw flexed. A sinkhole of dismay opened up in the Wooster abdomen. I'd rather liked to have dropped into said s. of d. at my man's subsequent words, "I'm afraid... There is much you do not understand. In most cases, I prefer such a state to remain unchanged. However, I must ask you to cease inviting me into your bed while we visit other residences. While the temptation to accept is very great, the potential consequences are greater."

"It's rummy, Jeeves, all of it." We were very close to one another now, close enough for me to rest my suddenly exhausted head on his shoulder. Despite the black cloud that had settled in the room, Jeeves' gentle fingers at my neck did not fail to inspire a flicker of desire and comfort in me.

"As you've said," the rumble of Jeeves' voice had quite a similar effect to that of his fingers, "In a short amount of time, we shall be in a house of our own, with Valerie and Ruth. When we are there, I will never spend a night apart from you again. This I promise you."

The fingers trailed from neck to chin, tilting my head back for a slow, sweet kiss. We performed our nightly ritual without further talk; there didn't seem much else to say and, besides, my aching heart kept me rather unequal to the task of conversation. I must say, it's an awful time whenever I must surrender my man to his socially acceptable place below stairs, but somehow it was even worse this particular evening. Not even the piquant mystery novel I'd found on the train that afternoon could distract me from Jeeves' absence. Sleep fell on me like a scratchy wool blanket, but I welcomed it nonetheless.

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The next morning dawned clear and cheery, and so did I. Poking my head up from the bedding to greet Jeeves, whose movements had summoned me from Morpheus' realm, imagine my surprise to find a different chap in his place arranging a tea tray by the door.

"Hallo!" I said.

The man, presumably one of Aunt Fran's household staff, turned quite suddenly at my hail, "Oh! Do pardon me, sir, I hadn't meant to wake you."

"Not a problem, not a problem. A fine day to wake to, in any case. But, may I ask where my man Jeeves has biffed off to?"

The valet puzzled over the question, "I'm sure I don't know, sir. I was merely told that the gentlemen in the first guest bedroom would require my services for the remainder of his visit. My name is Miller, sir."

"Ah, hm," I replied, absorbing what fresh info there was to be gleaned, "Well, I dare say you've been misinformed, Mr. Miller. I have a valet already, and a fine specimen of valet-hood at that, not to say you aren't. A fine valet, that is. Oh, I'm sure you muddle along in an excellent manner, but, really, there's simply no comparison to my valet, not with anyone in the world."

"Right," Miller said after a brief pause, no doubt attempting to contemplate my second-hand account of the wonder that is Jeeves, "If you don't mind, sir, I'll simply complete my tasks here, and you can speak to Mrs. Surridge-Hammond about the situation. Is that all right?"

"Certainly, Miller. Carry on." I gave the man a winning smile, so he wouldn't think me displeased with his service, but honestly I was rather anxious to get this odd mix-up sorted out.

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"Good morning, Bertie- or, afternoon I should say," Valerie greeted me as our paths through the halls crossed, "Did you sleep well?"

"Fine, Val, though I missed Jeeves something awful. The man is stubborn as a whatsit when it comes to sleeping arrangements, even when ensconced in the relative safety of your dear and well-informed aunt. Say, you haven't seen him knocking about, have you? I found some other fellow at my bedside when I awoke today- slightly alarming, don't you know."

Valerie blinked those lovely gray-blues of hers at me, "Oh, did you not hear? Jeeves has been called away, back to Bumpleigh. A telegram came from your Aunt Agatha several hours ago."

My turn had come to blink, "Called away? How bally perplexing. Whatever could Aunt Agatha want with Jeeves? I shall have to ring her up and see. I certainly hope it's nothing too serious; Jeeves has been known to fly to the aid of Bertram's friends and relatives when summoned. It would be monstrously selfish of me to keep that marvelous gray matter of his all to myself."

Val was kind enough to lead me to a telephone, from which I could contact Aunt Agatha and get up to date. "Bertram?" her voice came through the line, "What is it? What have you done? Married another girl, gotten committed, gotten arrested? That's it, isn't it? You've gotten yourself arrested, put the entire Wooster family in disgrace _again_, and now that lovely Finch-Hammond girl will have nothing to do with you. Out with the truth, my most unsatisfactory of nephews, and put an end to my suffering."

"No one's been arrested, Aunt Agatha, I simply wished to inquire as to the purpose to which you're putting Jeeves at this moment. Valerie informed me that you wired for him this morning."

"Purpose? I've not put Jeeves to any purpose, I've sent him away."

I felt as if I'd been turned to stone, there in Aunt Fran's drawing room. Out of marble lips, I managed a weak, "What?"

"You sound surprised, Bertram! How silly, you knew perfectly well that once you were married you would have no need for a valet. Since this engagement has lasted longer than any before, I felt it prudent to take care of that little detail myself, so we might give the wedding our complete attention."

"You sent Jeeves away. He's gone." I barely registered Val's anxious face staring into mind, her small hand on my shoulder.

"Yes, Bertram, sent off," Aunt Agatha sounded bored with the repetition, "Now I must be away. If you get the chance, do ask Valerie to send me her measurements for the dress."

The line went dead. I knew how it felt. My hand seemed very far away from me as it hung up the receiver. At some point I sat down on a sofa, quite conveniently placed for catching one whose legs have quite ceased to hold one up.

"Oh, Bertie, I'm so sorry," Val was saying, although she didn't seem a step closer than my hand. The drawing room door opened, and Ruth slipped inside. "Ruth! We've just had the most awful news."

"What is it, Valerie?" Ruth approached Val, and their hands unconsciously joined between them. Dull anger washed through me at the sight.

"Mrs. Gregson has sent Jeeves away. Why would she do such a thing, Bertie? Did she say?"

"Because I'm to be married. Married men don't need valets."

"Well, yes you do, Bertie, you need Jeeves!"

A thin trickle of emotion broke through the stone of my shock. I looked at Val, once again captivated by her luminous eyes. They were filled with earnest concern and sympathy. I found Ruth's of a similar composition, when I looked. "Yes, I do need Jeeves."

"We shall get him back, Bertie," Val said, an arm going around my shoulder while the other gripped my arm, "We simply must."

Ruth joined us on the couch, sitting on my other side and placing her hands on my shoulder and arm, "Yes, Bertie, we'll have him back."

Although the nightmarish possibility of a Jeeves-less future still haunted my mind, it was impossible for me to remain fully in its grip when surrounded by Ruth and Valerie's unwavering support. My own hands covered one of each of the girls', "Very well, then, dear old things. How shall we go about rescuing my beloved Jeeves?"

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End file.
